


moreish

by spills



Series: stupid. so dummy! [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Back to the Komori Whore agenda, Crossdressing - Sundress, Explicit Sexual Content, FaceFucking, M/M, dirty talking, light d/s tones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:59:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26890012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spills/pseuds/spills
Summary: Catches himself wishing that he was shameless enough to steal one of Osamu’s shirts for himself to keep. Friends with benefits don’t do shit like that though, and Motoya knows that asking for more is just asking for trouble.
Relationships: Komori Motoya/Miya Osamu
Series: stupid. so dummy! [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1979032
Comments: 6
Kudos: 30





	moreish

**Author's Note:**

> dam gave me their band!au brainworms and i just. couldn't help myself. please mind the tags though!!

Motoya doesn’t indulge himself as much as he likes anymore, ever since joining Kiyoomi’s band and then realizing that most of the people he’s fooled around with in the past, apparently all know each other in varying degrees of close proximity. 

Rin had called it karma while they were in the middle of making out, as Motoya had made the other man’s lap his throne at the time. Sure, he fucks around a lot, a bad habit really, but he likes offering pleasure if he’s having trouble finding any within himself. Keeping all his relationships physical and friendly, because he’s not one for anything too complicated. 

Most of his familial relationships have been complicated, and Motoya had thought that he had been doing a good job keeping it from bleeding into his personal life. Whatever, Motoya knows that he might be making another mistake, but the least he can do is to try to have a good time. 

It’s not the first time that he and Osamu had fucked anyway. Legs folded underneath his body, knees pressed against the floor, creamy yellow fabric fanned over his thighs and the wooden tiles of Osamu’s bedroom - stark contrast that looks pretty. He loves it when Osamu ends up taking him home, never asking too many questions after the wine and dine, impatient to get to the wind and grind. 

Works well for Motoya, who’s currently placed in a front row seat to Osamu stroking himself, slow and steady, and Motoya can feel saliva pooling in his mouth. Fuck, he wants Osamu between his lips so badly, thinking about tracing his tongue along the veins of his cock, kissing the head of it, wants to lick the other man’s pre-cum from the slit. 

Osamu has a gorgeous cock, being girthy and big - top three dicks to choke on, and Motoya knows that if he stays still, be good, maybe the other man will give him what he wants. As the appendage is gorgeous, it’s only natural that the owner is too. Thick thighs corded with muscle spread apart, showing off his prize as Osamu spits into his hand, drags the flat of his tongue on the surface on his palm to even out the makeshift lubrication. Goes back to touching himself, shoulders relaxing before he flutters his lashes, a downcast gaze directed at Motoya. 

Smug and sly when he catches how absolutely transfixed Motoya is in observing him. Motoya who’s been caught paying too much attention to the other man can’t help look away. Tells himself not to be embarrassed, that fucking around meant appreciating the finer details of another person - still, the  _ want _ to crawl over to the space between Osamu’s calves feels like a bottomless pit in his stomach. 

He’s been called  _ shameless _ before, but the desire he feels for the other man is obscene, even for his own standards. Were he any more of a creature of a carnal nature, he might have found himself already knelt between Osamu’s ankles, begging the man for a taste. Benefits of being all dolled up: serves as a reminder for oneself to behave themselves, dignity should be kept during foreplay before losing it all in the middle of intercourse. 

The exhale that Osamu gives is a good enough indication of amusement, and Motoya can feel the tips of his ears burning with heat, the tip of his nose as well. “Eye candy not good enough for ya, ‘Toya?” Osamu’s mocks erring on the side of fond, and Motoya hates how his own dick twitches at the other’s tone, tasting how his mouth goes dry at finally being acknowledged by the other man. 

Doesn’t know if he should answer, if he’s allowed to answer, all he wants to do now is please, wetting his bottom lip as he tries to think of a response. Osamu solves the problem for him, when he makes a  _ come hither _ motion at Motoya with his clean hand. 

Motoya, obedient, makes his way to Osamu, sits himself pretty in front of the other man. Splays his legs long from underneath the flare of the dress, tilts his head to the side with a smile, “What can I say? All of you looks delicious,” even if eyes were privy to a feast, Motoya knows that he would rather have a taste of anything Osamu would be willing to give him now. 

“Yeah?” it’s a rhetorical hum as Osamu reaches to his bedside table, wet wipes on the counter for easy access as he cleans his palm. Blood free flowing through his body in anticipation, again touched by the care Osamu offers when Motoya has an inkling of what the other man has in store for him. Motoya nuzzles his cheek against Osamu’s kneecap, rounded bone that sinks comfortably into the hollow of his cheek, murmuring a soft “yeah,” in response. 

It’s unnecessary but Motoya thinks that he shouldn’t be blamed for how Osamu makes him want to run his mouth without a second thought. Wants all the attention that Osamu is willing to give him. Feels the other man’s hand running through his hair, nudging him closer and closer towards him before Motoya is face to face with the other man’s length. 

Peeks at the other man through his lashes, and receives a raised eyebrow, the slightest petulant twist of Osamu’s lips when he asks, “What are you waiting for?” 

Motoya gives another brief glance at the other man’s shaft before tilting his head upwards. Offers the man before him a sunny grin, dropping his shoulder low for the strap of his sundress to slip off. 

“I think I could worship you like this.” 

Puts the other man on a pedestal, wants to forget how human Osamu is. If Osamu is human, then that means that he could be attainable. Motoya doesn’t want the obtainable, reminds himself that distance is what keeps him safe. There’s no need for distance when one’s courting God or the Devil, asking them for just a bit of their time - God or the Devil being ever present, but that doesn’t guarantee them staying. 

(The problem is this: Motoya doesn’t want anyone staying. Not when he could lose them. That’s a problem for another day though, maybe he’ll think about it in due time, maybe he won’t. He’s responsibly careless, and his choices haven’t killed him just yet.) 

Leaning forward, arching his back, one of God’s angels has Motoya’s face raised by the chin with the tip of his thumb. His expression is cold, but the look in Osamu’s eyes is heated - it makes Motoya want to burn, but instead he finds himself shivering underneath such intensity. 

“Here I thought ya already did,” Osamu accuses before dropping Motoya’s head. Motoya finds himself scrabbling for the other man’s touch, raises a paw to take hold of Osamu’s wrist. Loosely, just in case if the other man wants to shake him off. Motoya wouldn’t mind if Osamu did, knowing that he would probably deserve it. 

“I do,” Motoya kisses the back of Osamu’s knuckles, “Slip of the tongue, I’m sorry.” Deliberately makes eye contact with Osamu as he lets go of the other man’s hand, “Come on Samu, let me prove it to you.” 

Osamu, benign, allows him to, fisting his hand in Motoya’s hair and dragging him close to his cock. Lets Motoya close the distance all on his own. 

Motoya starts slow, kissing upwards the pillar in front of him, running his tongue over any veins that may cross his path. Sinks back down to press chaste kisses against Osamu’s pair of crown jewels. Sits back up to run his tongue over the slit of Osamu’s tip. The taste is salty, there’s the smell of sweat on skin, a very distinct Osamu smell that Motoya finds himself thinking about occasionally.

Catches himself wishing that he was shameless enough to steal one of Osamu’s shirts for himself to keep. Friends with benefits don’t do shit like that though, and Motoya knows that asking for more is just asking for trouble. 

Tampers down his wishful thinking by deepthroating Osamu. The real benefit of having no gag reflex is being able to pull off stunts that require all of one's concentration so you don’t accidentally hurt yourself. Motoya had anticipated the jolt of Osamu's hips, lucky that he managed to have both of his hands firmly on Samu’s thighs. 

“Fuck- ‘Toya,” Osamu huffs, giving a little growl, “Can’t ya give a guy a little warning next time?” a fistful of Motoya’s hair between his fingers.

“Just wanted to show you my appreciation Samu,” Motoya pops off the other man’s tip, “Reminding you how far I can take you, “ sticks his tongue out in invitation, wondering if there’s the streak of pre-cum contrasting against the pink of his tongue. 

“Really now,” Osamu shakes his head with an exasperated laugh, scratches Motoya’s scalp with the blunt of his fingernails, “If ya promise me you’ll be good, how can I refuse?”

“Mmn,” Motoya blows a bit of air over Osamu’s head, kitten licks the ridge where the tip meets the base, “Do you like me  _ like this?” _ Motoya doesn’t bother clarifying what  _ this _ is, lets the other man’s mind decide what  _ this _ is. 

Gently, Osamu nudges his mouth over his shaft, bobbing Motoya’s head only midway of his cock. A pleased groan from Osamu when Motoya scrapes the slightest bit of teeth along sensitive skin. Motoya gasps, lips parting when Osamu digs his nails harder into Motoya’s skull. The pain is good, and Motoya returns the favour by pressing his fingers into the flesh of Osamu’s inner thighs. 

“Fuck-” Osamu grits his teeth, exhales slowly as he pushes Motoya’s head even lower, “That felt good,” Osamu picking up the pace as he bobs Motoya’s head faster, rougher, hitting the back the back of Motoya’s throat, causing the shorter man to choke. A startled gurgle escaping Motoya’s lips, and clearly what Osamu was aiming for. Motoya can hear the cruel grin in the other man’s pleased observation, “Yer a little minx, aren't cha Toya?” pulls Motoya’s head up without any preamble, giving a low whistle while observing his work, “If I’m being too much, ya can just tell me,” Osamu smirks while wiping away tears at the edge of Motoya’s eye. 

It’s a challenge, also rhetorical, because Motoya’s sure that Osamu knows that Motoya is incapable of refusing him. Enjoys satisfying the other man’s gluttonous appetite - shakes his head, and opens his mouth to beg, “More of you, please.” 

“More of me huh?” Osamu muses, strokes a hand through Motoya’s hair before twisting brown locks into a harsh tug, “Open your mouth, ‘Toya. You like it best when I’m rough, yeah?” 

Motoya considers fear for the briefest moment, stemming from how badly he wants Osamu to ruin him. Fuck his throat till he’s hoarse, unable to speak or sing - unwise given that’s he’s a vocalist. But hey, he’s done covers of songs with his throat all fucked up, and the crowd seemed to like it just before he had to take a break. Big gulps of water always helps afterwards. Cum didn’t count, because swallowing it in the first place was a hassle - salty and bitter, and the real fun in swallowing was watching how his partner would react. 

No words are needed if they’re just here to fuck though, so Motoya simply opens his mouth, happy to get facefucked. He isn’t interested in having extra thoughts, and catching feelings now would be inconvenient. Would be worse than finding out that his string of flings were apparently all in Kiyoomi’s band. It’s mortifying, but that’s why he’s here: He’s here to not have a single thought. 

Osamu takes the hint, thrusting his dick roughly into Motoya’s throat - immediately hitting the back of his throat, and yeah, yeah _ yeahyeah _ . Really hits the spot when Osamu throatfucks him like this, Motoya leaning closer, forward, again wanting more till his head is filled with nothing but adrenaline and pain and pleasure. 

Sensations melding together into a pool of sticky lust. Again, obscene, and Motya can feel salt water slipping from the edge of his eyes to wet his cheeks, tears clinging to the edge of his jaw. He shudders when he feels Osamu’s cock twitching inside his mouth, knowing that the other man is about to spill in his mouth. 

“Oh-” Osamu grunts, “ _ ‘Toya-  _ I’m gonna come, Fuck-” and he tries pulling out, still courteous, but Motoya thinks that’s unnecessary, sinking Osamu’s length deeper between his lips. Osamu comes with a rough moan that sounds more like a beast’s growl, and Motoya gets a taste for what he's been craving. 

“Shit- ‘Toya,” the other man curses, pushing Motoya’s head away while Motoya gives an unapologetic chuckle. “Fuck, you’re flithy,” Osamu admonishes as Motoya licks the side of his mouth, making sure none of the other man’s seed is wasted. 

“Really?” Motoya huffs, voice cracking from the use of his throat, “I would have never guessed. Plus, don’t talk like you’re not planning on sticking your tongue into my mouth, ‘Samu,” flashing a cheeky grin. 

“Shut up, and get up here,” Osamu’s hisses in feigned annoyance, and Motoya doesn’t miss how the other man’s dick is twitching again. 

_ Unbelievable _ , Motoya thinks. It’s ridiculous how everyone he seems to meet has endless stamina and a bottomless pit of appetite. Absolutely impossible to sate, but that’s fine, since it’s about learning how to make do. 

Unfortunately for Motoya though, there are pins and needles in his legs, so standing up is much more of a hassle than he’d like. Winces as pain jolts up his nerves when he tries to take a step forward towards Osamu. Stumbles forward, yellow sundress fluttering in his graceless descent, landing in Osamu’s lap. 

Would have landed in Osamu’s lap, if only the other man didn’t catch him in time, straightening him by the shoulder. Simpers in faux sympathy, “Aw Toya, did I work you so hard you can’t even stand straight anymore?” 

“Fuck off,” Motoya bites back while meeting the other man’s eyes, likes the cruel amusement that glimmers darkly. Knows that he’ll be paying for that, as Osamu pulls him close enough that they’re chest to chest. 

“Do ya really want that ‘Toya?” Osamu hums as he drags his teeth along Motoya’s collarbone, ghosting his lips upwards to suck a bruise into the column of Motoya’s neck. Slips his hand underneath Motoya’s dress to brush the back of his knuckles against Motoya’s dick. “I thought you liked my attention,” his whisper low when he bites the shell of Motoya’s ear. 

Motoya hates how stiff his cock must be now, Osamu playing with his shaft, offering nothing but featherlight touches. His other hand wanders to the strap of his dress - the one that’s slung over his shoulder, pulls it down along with the fabric that was previously protecting the modesty of his torso. 

“Perky,” Osamu whistles as he gives one of Motoya’s nipples a playful flick, followed by a tight squeeze to Motoya’s dick, pressure that’s painful, and it makes Motoya whimper from pleasure. 

“Hgnh, ‘Samu,” Motoya pants when Osamu lets go of his dick, feels his body quiver as Osamu dips Motoya backwards, pressing his lips against Motoya’s nipple. “Samu,” Motoya cries out when he finally feels the bud between teeth, “Ahn- that- Fuuuck,” slurs the word as Osamu laves his tongue over where he had bitten, “Fuck, can’t you just fuck me already?” 

“Demanding,” Osamu sighs as if he were the long-suffering one here. Gives Motoya’s ass a soft pat, “All fours, over my lap.” Motoya gives him a look, a pout, and Osamu merely rolls his eyes, “Just do it. I’ll give you what you want, promise.”

Eye contact is held for three seconds before Motoya finally gives in with a sigh. Presents himself stomach down over Osamu’s thighs, elbows against the mattress, propping himself up with the heel of his palms. Osamu passes him a pillow, tucks it underneath his elbow. Motoya sighs happily wrapping his arms around it, resting his head on it, when Osamu turns away.

“Yup, that’s for yer pretty head, now,” and that’s the sound of the lube bottle being uncapped, “Mind me prepping ya?” the sound of slick being warmed up between Osamu’s fingers is such a welcome sound that Motoya can’t help but nod enthusiastically, wiggling his butt. 

Osamu is good with his fingers, knows exactly how to make Motoya squirm till he’s nothing more than a puddle of muscle, flesh and wanton ache that does nothing but crave for another person’s warmth. His partner flips his skirt up, making Motoya yelp at the sudden cool air. 

“Damn, no underwear?” Osamu teases, pressing his thumb against Motoya’s rim, “I was hoping to see something cute, maybe lacey,” replaces his thumb with a finger, circling his entrance, “Since yer all dressed up, I was expecting, I don’t know. Maybe something with a bow. Pastel,” and Motoya can’t help but snort at that. 

“Make a checklist of all the things you want me to wear,” arches himself into the stretch of Osamu’s single finger, “Though you’ll probably see me wearing them faster if you get me them yourself.” The sundress was a purchase of his own, since the colour yellow is nice, and sometimes all a crowd wants is to see a cute boy in a cute dress singing his lungs out on a dimly lit stage surrounded by neon. 

The other man merely hums in affirmation, taking his time stretching out Motoya, “Ya serious about that, Toya?” 

To that, Motoya can’t help but blush. “It was meant to be a joke, pervert.” Osamu laughs at that, pressing a kiss to his asscheek as Motoya feels himself being stretched even wider. An addition of a second finger that makes Motoya cry when Osamu curls them to press his prostate. 

“I’m the pervert here, really?” Osamu mocks, fingering him ruthlessly, other hand holding Motoya’s head down, slipping free fingers into Motoya’s mouth, “You’re the one here all hard from being fucked over my lap like this, ‘Toya,” Osamu teases, “Slobbering over my fingers, kinda like a dog. A puppy really,” gives Motoya’s ass a playful smack. It makes Motoya yelp, and somehow, even harder. 

“Sadist,” Motoya mumbles, which only makes Osamu laugh even more as he adds another finger, scissoring him. It’s unfair how talented Osamu is with his hands - even if Motoya were to ever ghost him, he knows that he would be missing how good the other man is at fucking him. 

Ruthless in the best way possible as he takes his time, milking Motoya of all the pre-cum he can offer as he strokes Motoya in rhythm to the thrust of his fingers. “Gonna let this sadist fuck you, slut?””and Motoya shivers, glad that he’s unable to meet Osamu’s eyes in this position, head buried in the other man’s pillow. 

“Mmph,” Motoya doesn’t want to answer that, not when he knows that Osamu is going to fuck him anyway. Yet Osamu isn’t satisfied with that, slapping his ass hard, and demands, “Come on, I asked you a question. Answer it.” 

Right now? Motoya wishes he had an inkling of shame in him, being treated like this. But all he wants now is for Osamu to fuck him stupid silly. No thoughts. Just horny. God he likes Osamu mean a little too much. Definitely a problem. He’s not going to address it now though, not when he glances down and Osamu’s cock is back to full hardness, glistening again. 

God really did not create all mortals equal - so while he’s in the arms of a devilishly attractive man, Motoya thinks it would be more of a crime if he didn’t allow himself to get fucked to his heart’s content. 

“Yeah, of course,” Motoya tries to keep his ground, even the playing field as he keeps his voice steady, “Pretty sure the sadist wants to fuck me as badly I wanna be fucked.” 

Swiftly, Osamu flips him over. Bigger body boxing Motoya back against the mattress. Sometimes Motoya forgets about their size difference, especially when they’re standing next to each other. Moments like these are what puts Motoya back into his place - throat going dry, as he’s once again being made to feel small. 

It’s a feeling Motoya fantasizes too much about: simply being held down.

“Aw what?” Osamu notices his sudden silence, kisses his temple and places his big palm on Motoya’s waist. Rubbing soothing circles into Motoya’s hip bone, “Cat got your tongue, puppy?” and that’s the nickname Rin gave him, somehow finding its way onto Osamu’s tongue. Embarrassing, how much Motoya likes that too, as Osamu lines his cock with Motoya’s entrance. 

Self-restraint is a blessing, because all Motoya wants is to grind his hips down. “Not really, just waiting for you to take me,” flashes teeth in his grin, “Unless you’re too tired? If you’re too tired, I’m sure I can take care of myself and you can watch.” 

Osamu growls at his provocation, edging his shaft between Motoya’s rim. Motoya keens, wrapping his arms around Osamu’s neck. The edge of his eyes are feeling heavy again, and Osamu presses his lips against his cheek, licking up salt. 

“Don’t talk big if yer gonna cry. I’m not even completely in,” Osamu murmurs, “I’m gonna feel bad.” 

Motoya catches Osamu’s mouth with his own, bites down on Osamu’s bottom lip. Huffs indignantly when he retorts, “It’s not my fault that you’re stupid big Samu,” and the other man’s face looks as if he can’t decide to be offended or not, “So are you going to fuck me or not?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Osamu ghosting kisses down Motoya’s jawline, “I’ll fuck ya good ya stupid whore.” 

And really? That’s all Motoya could ask for, wrapping his legs around Osamu’s waist. Wants him closer, closer, closer. 

**Author's Note:**

> all i do i have komori thoughts@ [ twitter!! ](https://twitter.com/rinrintoya)  
> and band!au!! brainchild of dam!!!!!!


End file.
